Under The Tokyo Skylights

The space before the stage is filled to the brim with roaring crowds, mostly Japanese youths, screaming my name, waving their arms, holding hand-made posters in the air for all to see. I stand behind the curtain, peering out at them, my usual cigarette resting behind one ear. My manager, Hiroshi Duong, stands behind me, twirling his fine goatee with one hand and arranging his dark sunglasses with the other.

“They are ready for you” he tells me, nodding towards the swelling crowds. “We may begin”.

I take a deep breath, clear my throat as best I can and head out onto the brightly lit stage. The sound of the fans mounts even higher as I come into view, thousands of voices shriek, vocal chords yell until they ache, piercing my vibrating eardrums. I bring the microphone up to my lips and smile at the fans.

“Heeelllloooo Tokyo!” I say loudly, hearing the crowds yell back with so much enthusiasm. “Are you ready to shake it tonight?!”. The fans scream back a “yes” reply with an accent I can even distinguish from where I stand.”Then let’s start dancing!”.

The music starts up, an ear splitting beat that even the furthest spectators can feel running through their blood. I start the show off with some of my country known hip thrusting which sends the crowds wild. A few of those and the beat speeds up, while the fans scream, growing wilder by the second.

“Come on Tokyo; let’s get down toooo-niiiighttttt!” I yell into my microphone, waving my left arm as a signal that the show will now officially begin. The cameras are stationed and ready to record; reporters standing by to critic every move I make and my fans are just about ready to explode.

I strip off my leather jacket and toss it behind me, taking my place in the center of the stage. The spotlights fall upon me, bathing me into warm heat and the dazzling color of the Source Fours sprinkles all around me in blues, reds, greens and yellows. The music to my most famous song erupts all around me and I bring the mike to my lips, ready to rock the night away.

“I’m a small town girl, a small town girl” I sing, kicking my heels up. “In a big a*s world, a big a*s world. No cows and pigs to feed, what can I do??? I can dance, I can dance, I can dance till I die. I can dance, I can dance, I can dance till I die”.

I spin around and shake my butt at the crowds, before swinging my hips to the beat and smiling widely. “No tractor to drive, no field to sow, what can I do??? I can dance, I can dance, I can dance till I die. I can dance, I can dance, I can dance till I die”.

And that’s just the beginning.

 

 

2 hours later, my voice is hoarse from all the singing and my body is aching from all the exaggerated dance moves I performed. Exhausted, I plop down on the couch in my dressing room and take a fresh glass of water. The concert was a complete success, according to my manager. He informed me that we sold 116,459 tickets, at 30$ each, making us a net profit of around 3 million dollars. I get 20% of that amount, roughly 600,000$, which I’m happy to receive as soon as possible. I do have bills to pay (including the new loft I purchased in downtown Tokyo). I lean back for a few minutes, relaxing under the strain I’ve been through all month, practicing for the concert and recording my new album (Under the Tokyo Skylights). Hiroshi is sitting across from me and seated beside him is my assistant manager (Lee), my bodyguards (Ken and Jun), my agent (Matsuda), my make-up and hair stylist (Chiaki) and my boyfriend of 4 months (Koki Tanaka: rapper in the Japanese pop group KAT-TUN).

I’m trying to cool off; my white tank top, soaked with sweat, is sticking to my back and chest. I ripped off my jeans as soon as I got in my room, changing into a pair of jean shorts instead.

“You’ve got five minutes before you head off to the signing booth, the room is already packed with fans waiting for you to appear” Hiroshi says, smiling at me and checking his expensive jewel-faced watch at the same time.

“Okay, but I need to change. I’m not appearing in these clothes, they’re covered in sweat” I reply, getting up and stretching my arms as high as they can go, before disappearing behind my dressing screen.

While I pull off my dirty clothes, my agent starts telling us about different brands that want to sponsor me and pay me to perform in commercials. I’m half listening; sifting through my luggage compartment for appropriate wear my fans would deem my style. Finally I throw on a new bra and a clean white tank top, with my usual leather jacket over it. I decide to keep the shorts and opt for some dark cowboy boots instead of my dance sneakers. Chiaki comes to arrange my make-up, dabbing some of my scent on too and doing some touch-ups to my hair.

“It’s time” Hiroshi announces urgently. I step out from behind the dressing screen and give Koki a smooth kiss on the mouth, before following Hiroshi and Matsuda out of my dressing room. Ken and Jun both follow behind me, their muscles flexing and we head off to the signing booth.

 

Hiroshi was right, the place is packed with fans calling out to me as I take my place at the table. On the table is a bottle of water, a few permanent markers and a stack of life-sized posters of me to give away to every 20^th person. I cross my legs and take one marker in my hand, as the first fans come up to the table. It’s a pair of identically dressed Japanese girls, probably no older then 15, wearing jean jackets and dyed blue hair.

“Hi girls, how did you like the concert?” I ask them in my crappy Japanese.

“Oh it was wonderful” they reply gushingly, bringing forth my first CD to sign and one of the t-shirts we were selling for the concert tonight. I do my loopy signature on both items and bid the girls ado.

The line slowly filters forwards, as I sign CD covers, t-shirts, posters, magazine covers, loose scraps of paper and sneakers. After the first 100 fans, I take a quick break to go pee and freshen up. I check my watch: 9:56PM. I head back to the signing booth and continue meeting fans.

“Will you be having a tour this summer?” one guy asks me, as I sign his left shoe.

“Yes, starting in August till October” I respond with a smile. “We’ll be traveling from Japan to India”.

Ignoring the sign above the exit door that mentions “No smoking”, I light up my long-desired cigarette and inhale the smoke with utter satisfaction. No one comes to put it out, they know I deserve it, of all people. I sign for 200 more fans, before calling it a night. I’m spent and ready to drop dead in my bed and sleep the entire next day.

 

“Nicely handled” Hiroshi tells me, clapping me on the back. “Now you get to rest”.

I head back to my dressing room and bump into Koki, who is on his cellphone and chatting away in fast Japanese. I pack up my luggage compartment and we head off to the back door, where my bodyguards are waiting along with my chauffeur (Takashi).

Once seated in the limousine beside Koki, I can truly relax.

“Where to?” Takashi asks politely, as soon as the ignition is turned on.

“Um, let’s go ho-“ I begin, but Koki cuts me off.

“Not yet, Kat, there’s some people waiting for you at The Yuudoku Kaisho” Koki informs me, his arm around my shoulders.

The Yuudoku Kaisho translates for The Toxic Club, also known as the place I spend the most time in during my party nights. It was Koki who’d introduced me to the place and after just one night, I’d been hooked.

“Okay, but not for too long, I’m already really tired” I say, yawning for emphasize.

“Don’t worry, it will be only for a few minutes. Ming, Won, Satoshi, Ziyi and Tsai want to see you for a bit” Koki tells me, as the limousine lurches forward and soon blends into the Tokyo traffic.

 

The Yuudoku Kaisho is filled with people, sitting and drinking under the dark lights and dancing to the strong beat from D.J Izaki. Koki told my bodyguards and chauffeur to head home as we’d get a ride back with our friends. The V.I.P room is also quite full, but our usual booth is empty, apart from our friends, that is. I’m greeted with much hugs and kisses and I can’t help but smile.

“I’m so happy for you” Ziyi tells me. “You are a real success story”.

The waiter brings us each a glass of vodka and we toast to a life of success, before gulping down our drinks.

“It’s not over yet” Koki informs us with a sneaky smile. He brings out a packet of white powder from his breast pocket. Our friends cheer and watch with interest as he cuts the cocaine down with a razor blade to make us each a line to sniff. Tsai passes out the short straws and we each lean in, putting the end of our straw over the beginning of the line of coke. I put one finger over my other nostril and stick the other end of the straw in the nostril that is left open. I sniff hard while moving the straw over the line of Cocaine, feeling the particles burn the inside of my nose slightly and also drip down to the back of my throat. I swallow and taste the sweetness, before putting the rest of the scattered grains of coke on one finger and rubbing it onto my lower gums.     

 

Reviews

[M@]

Another well written piece, and my eyes send personal thanks for the large text.

I can only imagine that you've had some sort of Hollywood (or show business) experience which helped out this piece. I could be wrong, but there seemed to be a bit of confidence in the actuality of events.

Sadly, once again, I'm failing to understand exactly what this piece is about. I can see that it's about the life of an American Country singer who's touring in Japan, but besides that, I don't see much depth elsewhere. I'm unsure of her relationship to her boyfriend Koki, even though I know it's a fast-paced relationship. Even though she's constantly tired, I'm unsure how she feels about her work. There are a lot of mysteries that would give this story and the character therein a lot of depth, but I'm failing to see it if it's there.

One thing that I really like though is your use of foreshadowing her cocaine addiction. The line, "It was Koki who'd introduced me to the place and after just one night, I'd been hooked.", followed by the scene of her snorting a line is great, and pulled off fashionably.

I really liked the title and it's relevance with the story, it ties it up together nicely. However, if you'll allow a humble suggestion, leave the title out of the story itself. For the reader, at that point, the title just becomes the name of her next album. If left out of the story, it gives her experiences in Tokyo, a foreign land, much more meaning, and packs quite a surprising punch as well.

[Manictastic]

It reads easily, that's good. I did lack the sense of a true story. The ending just seems the beginning of something much more dramatic.